


untitled katy perry project

by singingwasps



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, also i shit on coco chanel for being a goddamn nazi sympathizer, changing appearance, the mutability of memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22717735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwasps/pseuds/singingwasps
Summary: "No one can see my true face and live" sounds like either a chat up line or the parting words of a third rate Man From U.N.C.L.E. villain. Unfortunately as is always the case it is neither but rather an unchanging facet of his existence.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	untitled katy perry project

"No one can see my true face and live" sounds like either a chat up line or the parting words of a third rate Man  _ From U.N.C.L.E _ . villain. Unfortunately as is always the case it is neither but rather an unchanging facet of his existence. 

Lucifer/Lightbringer/Morningstar/Adversary/Accuser/Iblis/Slanderer, whatever he goes by, has no face, and no name. His entire life he's tried, of course, he's been blonde and radiant and slight for most of his life, and now he's dark haired with a certain Byronic turn. A rakish quirk of the mouth, and dark eyes, to contrast with the moue of innocence and weepy watery blue ones.

The wings stay, pure white, with feathers that are not feathers, but music and light. But his face changes. 

Once he tried horns, and cloven feet but the horns got caught on doors, and the cloven feet required rather more upkeep than he was willing to put up with. Antlers, maybe, with their bleeding velvet would be better. Certainly more poetic.

But the antlers fell off and he was left with the same feeling, that none if it was him, none of it would ever be him. 

He doesn't remember what his true face is, not anymore. His own voice flees, the one that led choirs and laughed with his brothers, that commanded platoons and plagues and devastation. Of course the devastation was always for a good cause - there were heretics and false gods and idols, and people with eyes like stars, that stood in opposition to his father.

There was never any halo. Halos were for the newer models. Galaxies and constellations whirled above his head in everlasting light, chords and bells pealing out as he walked. 

In hell there was no music. He was radiant still, with curly white blonde hair that floated as if he were underwater, and eyes that held fury and tempests. His wings were large, the size of city blocks and he would enfold people in them, reminding them that he would love them. Their only crime was not blindly obeying his father.

He knew they were better than this, he said with beautiful honey words in a voice he couldn't stand and can't remember anymore. And they would shift with wings and teeth and thorns, or they would ask, crying that they needed to be punished. 

The forest of suicide grew, it grows still. That's what hurts the most. He wants to burn it down, to make the city an inferno like humans said it was. 

But hell is cold, and has no sun, and for a while he tried to be one, but the light dimmed and the city was vast. 

Lucifer has no face. He doesn't think he ever had one. 

Dream told him he had one once, when his hair was dark, and dotted with stars, before he came to hell and stole the helm. That the face was beautiful, and that thousands if eyes wept holy oils, opening and closing, advocating for people who no one cared for in a voice that was a symphony, pleasing for their lives to his father. 

He likes that story. But he's not sure if it's true.

Maze always gives him a look when he asks her about it. She says he's always looked the same to her, and when pressed for detail says "You look like yourself, dipshit."

Mazikeen has never had any other face. She's always been Mazikeen. She used to make fun of him, asking if it was time for his bicentennial face shopping spree, to ask if he was going for the Chanel nose this time.

Personally he found that bit a tad insulting. He would never go for Chanel. He had more class than to go for noted French nazi sympathizer. 

But she’s not wrong, not really. 

Lucifer has no face. He doesn’t think he ever really had one.


End file.
